


Four Men And A Baby

by Nekomata58919



Category: Ghostbusters (1984-1989; 2020)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Consensual Sex, Fluff and Angst, Ghost OCs, Honestly the amount of fluff is wild, Humor, M/M, Mpreg, POV Multiple, Slime has some weird side effects, Tags May Change, background Janine/Louis, but mostly Peter and Egon POV, dubcon, mentions of Dana, references to the video game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:53:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28297821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekomata58919/pseuds/Nekomata58919
Summary: It's been three years since Vigo was destroyed. Or at least, that's what the Ghostbusters thought. But Vigo is back with a new twist on an old plan, and things get strange.
Relationships: Egon Spengler/Peter Venkman
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers!  
> I certainly wasn't expecting to be writing Ghostbusters fanfic, but sometimes ideas just hit and don't leave. So, here I am, lol. Hopefully people enjoy this, especially since I'm not sure how many people are interested in Peter/Egon fics.

The Netherworld was a vast and ever-changing dimension, filled with beings small and large, weak and powerful. Very few could navigate it without getting lost, so many beings had carved out territories they fought hard to earn and keep and stayed in one place. It was one of those new territories that Vazimir and Oxxic traversed.

Their claws scratched over the black stone surface they prowled over, entering the tall and twisted castle they’d been summoned to. Vazimir’s slitted nostrils flared, taking in the scent of the territory around them. A sharp, rotten musk hung heavy in the air. The being that summoned them was powerful, and the energy it gave off was thrilling.

“What is this?” Oxxic hissed, peering down into a long channel filled with pink ectoplasm with narrowed yellow eyes.

Vazimir growled, hooking a claw around Oxxic’s leathery gray neck to drag them away. “Leave it.”

Oxxic’s quills flared up along their back, and they smacked Vazimir’s paw away. But they didn’t argue and followed Vazimir down the hallway quietly. Vazimir pushed open the large iron door at the end, entering into a huge, empty, stone throne room. Candles of blue flame flickered in skeletal sconces.

Standing at the head of the room was a humanoid dressed in full armor, its back to them. Slowly the humanoid turned, fixing crimson eyes upon them. He curled his thick lips into a sneer. “You have come. Good,” the deep voice rumbled.

“Who are you to summon us?” Vazimir demanded, standing straighter so as to meet the humanoid’s height. Oxxic did the same, skinny tail lashing back and forth.

“I am Vigo the Destroyer, Scourge of Carpathia, Sorrow of Moldavia,” the humanoid replied, unfazed by their threatening stance. “I have summoned you to do my bidding.”

Vazimir snarled, lunging and swiping at Vigo. Vigo flicked a hand, sending Vazimir flying back into a wall with a shriek. Oxxic hissed, spitting orange ectoplasm, but they backed down. Vazimir got to their feet, glaring for a moment at Vigo before bowing. As much as Vazimir didn’t like it, they did appreciate power. And if this Vigo was more powerful, then Vazimir would listen to his request.

“What would you have us do?” Vazimir rasped.

Vigo clenched his hands into fists. “I will return to the Earthly plane and rule it, as I was always meant to. For that, I need a living body,” he explained. “I know of your particular abilities. You will go to Earth and find two humans. Have them mate and produce me a body I can inhabit.”

Vazimir tilted their head. That sounded interesting. “Are there specific humans you would like us to use?”

“They must be strong,” Vigo said. “The one to provide the necessary essence especially so. Someone in power, so that I may inherit it. The mother may be anyone who can carry my new body without fail. Vazimir, you will possess the necessary human and have them impregnate the human Oxxic prepares.”

Oxxic grinned. “I have not had a human in so long,” they purred.

“There is one other thing,” Vigo told them. “The ones who call themselves Ghostbusters. If they learn of this, they will do everything within their power to stop it. Do not allow that to happen.”

“And once this has been done?” Vazimir asked, not letting the excitement distract them.

Vigo eyed them. “You will have positions of power at my side when I am grown. I can then provide you with plenty of humans to sate your hunger.”

Vazimir and Oxxic exchanged a look. They bowed. “Your will shall be done.”

* * *

Walter Peck pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning back in his office chair. At the rate they were going, the Ghostbusters were going to cost him his job and it had only been a year. God, he hated them. Yes, he was aware they were a necessary evil, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Especially when it left him with so much paperwork.

He sighed and leaned back over the desk to finish signing off on the necessary forms, eyes straining even with the golden glow of his desk lamp. Walter would finish them up and then head out. If he wanted them to get through the proper legal proceedings before the weekend, he’d have to get them in early tomorrow. He sincerely hoped the Ghostbusters could hold off on destroying any more property until then or he’d have another backlog.

It was almost one in the morning by the time Walter was done with the paperwork. Grumbling to himself, he left his office and trudged through the empty halls. He was usually the last one to leave the PCOC building—not that there were many others working with him in the first place—so he was used to it. Walter supposed if he wasn’t so picky about his employees then he could hire more, but there were just too many incompetent people out there.

The taxi ride to his apartment was quick, though he found himself nearly falling asleep on the way there regardless. Shaking himself awake properly, Walter got out and headed inside. The feeling of being watched pricked at the back of his neck as he unlocked his door. He glanced around, but saw no-one. Walter scoffed at himself. Probably someone looking through their peephole. His neighbors did tend to be on the nosy side.

Walter stepped inside, flicking on the light to illuminate his clean, modest apartment. He could have afforded something bigger, sleeker, but what was the point when he practically lived at the office? Walter went about his usual routine; he watered his struggling plants, grabbed some leftovers from the fridge, and settled at the little dining table that was filled with more paperwork. He’d given up watching the news a while ago, knowing he’d hear about it soon enough if the Ghostbusters were up to no good. No point stressing about it after just getting home.

Something clattered in the bathroom. Walter frowned, glancing in the direction of the noise. For a moment he thought to just leave it and figure out what fell later, but it annoyed him. He needed to know. Shaking his head, he got up and made his way down the narrow little hall to his bathroom. 

His toothbrush holder was on the ground. Walter crouched and picked it back up, grimacing as he plucked his toothbrush off the  linoleum  tiles. That would need to be replaced now. Before he left, he noticed the window inside was open. He didn’t recall opening it  that morning , but he shut it anyway.

Walter cleaned up his dinner and his paperwork and headed for bed. He needed proper sleep. That was why he didn’t remember opening the window in the bathroom. Not enough sleep. Walter was just about to settle into bed when a loud scratching noise from the hall startled him.

Walter got to his feet and stormed to the door, throwing it open. “What the hell is—”

His complaint was cut off by a huge mass slamming into him. Walter skidded back across the floor with a cry of alarm. Yellow eyes filled his vision. He screamed.

Vazimir grumbled, getting to their feet. They touched their new face and blinked. Two eyes. Humans  really  were such limited beings. Vazimir wandered over to a window and took in their new appearance. Walter Peck stared back. Excellent. 

Even better, the man’s memories were easily accessed. He barely put up a fight. Vazimir sifted through them, picking out the useful ones. “Ghostbusters…” he muttered. Walter was in charge of them, in a way. And he hated them. Vazimir grinned, properly looking out at the city below. Oh, that would make things so much more fun.

“Is it done?”

Vazimir turned to see Oxxic stalking into the room. “It is. This body is a good one,” he replied, running his hands over it appreciatively.

Oxxic regarded him, sniffing, then nodded. “I will go find a human for myself, then.”

“No.”

“What?” Oxxic’s nostrils flared.

“I have an idea, if you would be patient.” Vazimir looked up at his companion. “I can bring some humans to you.”

Oxxic grinned, baring their fangs. “Very well.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured I could post the first two tonight, considering the first chapter was a little shorter. Happy Holidays everyone!

The glowing blue specter dove from the building with a wail, spreading its spindly arms wide. Bright purple energy crackled up the street lamps before they were torn from the ground and flung. Peter yelped, jumping out of the way of one of the lamps before it slammed into him. Instead, it smashed into the side of a building behind him.

A shout had Peter rolling to his feet faster than usual. Egon went sailing past him, smacking into the side of a truck. “You good?” he called, clambering over some rubble towards him.

Egon sat up. “Yes!”

The other Class 5 used its telekinetic abilities to hurl a manhole cover at them. They ducked just in time to avoid it.

“A little help would be nice, guys!” Peter shouted at Ray and Winston.

“We’re trying!” Ray called back, blasting at the first Class 5.

Peter got his proton gun and fired, cornering the ghost. It shrieked, caught in the middle of their streams. Winston tossed down a trap and they wrestled it inside. Which just left the second one. It swooped around them and disappeared into a car. 

“Great,” Winston muttered as the car roared to life.

The car sped towards Ray. Egon blasted the car with the proton stream, causing it to skid and turn, heading for him and Peter instead. 

“Try the sidewalks!” Ray shouted.

“Nice suggestion, but I don’t think this thing cares about the rules of the road!” Peter snapped back, dodging the possessed car. He hit it with a stream in the tail light. “Ooo-hoo! Right in the ass!”

The ghost fled from the car, spinning through the air with a shriek of fury. Winston blindsided it with a blast and Egon threw the trap. Peter, Ray, and Winston forced it inside. With a final wail from the ghost, the trap snapped shut.

“And another one bites the dust!” Peter crowed with a triumphant smirk.

Ray scooped up the trap, grinning. “Two Class 5 Full Torso Vaporous Apparitions. A couple of nasty customers, that’s for sure,” he said, practically bouncing from excitement.

“I’d keep your enthusiasm toned down,” Winston warned, looking around at the destroyed street, crushed cars, and broken bits of buildings covered in various forms of ectoplasm. “We did a lot of damage.”

Peter took in the scene and groaned. “Great. I sense a call from the Dickless Wonder coming in our near future.”

“That would be a high probability,” Egon agreed, carrying the other trap towards the Ecto-1B.

“Eh, we’ll deal with it like we always do,” Ray said with a shrug. “We’ve done worse.”

As they climbed into the Ecto, Peter glanced at Egon. “They tossed you around pretty bad. You sure you’re okay?”

Egon nodded. “I’m fine. Just a few epidermal abrasions and contusions, that’s all.”

“You could just say scrapes and bruises like a normal person,” Peter complained. He caught sight of Egon’s smirk and his eyes widened. “You do that on purpose! I knew it!”

“Sometimes,” Egon confessed.

Peter gave a dramatic huff, dropping his head back against the headrest with a quiet _thunk_. “Well how’s that for appreciation? I worry about you, and you tease me,” he bemoaned. Peter held up a Crunch Bar he’d stashed in the backseat. “And to think I was gonna reward you with this.”

“I _do_ appreciate your concern, Peter,” Egon replied, eyeing the Crunch Bar.

Peter handed it to him. “Yeah, yeah. You only like me for the candy bars. I get it,” he said with a smirk. Besides, how could Peter resist when Egon’s eyes lit up at receiving such a simple treat? He liked seeing Egon happy, so sue him.

“They _are_ pretty good,” Egon mused.

“Welcome back, boys,” Janine greeted the four of them, peering over the rim of her glasses. “Another success?”

“Yep!” Ray replied with a grin, holding up one of the traps. “Though I’d be ready for a call from Peck soon.”

“Hell’s Kitchen really lived up to it’s name tonight,” Peter chuckled.

Janine sighed, shaking her head. “Of course. Why am I not surprised? I really wish you would at least _try_ not to destroy the city, listening to that man’s voice gives me such a headache.”

“We do try,” Winston protested. “Except the ghosts generally don’t care.”

“Mhm. I’m sure.” Janine rifled through some papers on her desk, then pulled out four envelopes. “By the way, you’ve got mail.”

“If it’s fan mail, we’ll look at it in the morning,” Peter said with a yawn.

“It’s not fan mail.”

Ray and Winston headed for the stairs to the basement. “We’ll take a look after we put these ghosts on lock down,” Ray told her.

Peter wandered over and took the envelope addressed to him. “It’s from Dana,” he muttered. He flipped it over and ripped open the back, pulling out a card. And not just any card, but an invitation. A wedding invitation for July 28th.

“Who’s Michael Davies?” Egon asked, looking at his own invitation.

“How should I know?” Peter replied with a shrug. It was all very nice and proper looking with fancy wiritng, at least until the little PS at the end, which was definitely Dana’s handwriting.

_PS: I know you_ _guys_ _are busy and your schedules are unpredictable, so I don’t want you to feel bad if you can’t come._

“How considerate,” Egon remarked, tucking the invitation back in the envelope.

Peter caught sight of Janine eyeing him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Janine said, holding up her hands.

“You don’t seem surprised by this. Lemme guess, you got an invitation, too, and you just wanted to see my reaction?” Peter said, raising an eyebrow.

Janine shrugged. “Well, I know you two were a thing. Can’t blame me for being curious,” she replied as she pulled on her coat.

Peter could see Egon watching him as well. He rolled his eyes. “I’m fine. We split on amicable terms, remember? And it’s been almost three years. Honestly, I’m happy for her. She deserved much better than dealing with all this,” he said, waving his hand around at the Firehouse. And Peter meant it. As much as they’d tried to make it work, it just wouldn’t. Peter also had to admit that he probably didn’t mind that. Dana was a great lady, and he respected her and cared about her and Oscar’s well being, but he couldn’t say that he’d ever really been in love with her.

“Well, glad to see you actually _can_ be mature sometimes,” Janine said with a small smirk as she passed them. “See ya tomorrow.”

* * *

Egon had spent most of the night working on new additions for the proton packs and testing out other various experiments on Slimer. In other words, the usual. Still, he did manage to get three hours of sleep. His experimental 14 minutes a night had not been sustainable, unfortunately.

After helping Winston clean up breakfast—Ray and Peter never seemed capable of being clean themselves, even when breakfast was just donuts or muffins from the bakery down the street—Egon headed downstairs. He was planning on working more on his latest experiment with Slimer when Janine called them all over.

“Yes, yes, they’re right here,” she said. Janine held out the phone. “It’s Walter Peck.”

Peter snatched up the phone. “To what do we owe this displeasure so early in the morning?” he drawled, twisting the phone cord around his finger.

Egon, Ray, and Wintson watched with equal concern and amusement. Of course they knew why he was calling, but it was always a treat to listen to Peter get under Peck’s skin, even over the phone.

“Uh-huh. Oh really?” Peter rolled his eyes. “I’m _truly_ sorry, Pecker, but we’re too busy—”

Whatever Walter was saying cut Peter off, causing him to frown.

“… Is that really necessary?” Peter sighed. “Yeah. We’ll be right there.” He handed the phone back to Janine, who hung up. Peter shook his head. “Well, looks like we’ve got a little date with Peck. He wants to see us in his office, now.”

Ray grimaced. “We didn’t get any calls for a bust, did we?” he asked Janine hopefully.

“I’m afraid not,” Janine replied.

“Then I guess we’d better get it over with,” Winston said, making his way towards the Ecto.

Entering through the carved oak door to see Walter Peck at his desk with that haughty expression plastered on his face, Egon couldn’t help but be annoyed. Of course, he didn’t show it, that was not how he was raised. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t insult the man in his head. Egon wasn’t normally the type to do even that, however he made an exception for Peck ever since he insulted his inventions and blamed them for his mistake. If there was any way to get on Egon’s bad side, it was that.

“Took you long enough,” Peck sneered, folding his hands atop his desk and lifting his chin imperiously.

“Sorry, but there was a lot of traffic and we didn’t really care enough to take a short cut,” Peter replied with a shrug.

Peck’s lips thinned. “It’s precisely that attitude that wins you no favors, Venkman.” He stood. “But I didn’t call you here to discuss that. It’s your incompetence that needs to be addressed.”

“Funny, if we were really incompetent, you’d still be possessed from the mayor’s party last year,” Ray pointed out, crossing his arms. “Or dead.”

“Perhaps that’d be better than dealing with you four,” Peck snapped. He took a breath, straightened his suit, and approached them. “At any rate, you’re all on very thin ice. You caused unrepentant destruction twice in _three_ days. Do you know how much that costs the city?”

Peter snorted. “Less than it would if we let the ghosts do whatever the hell they want, I can promise that much.” He glared as Peck walked up to him before passing behind Winston and over to Ray.

“I refuse to believe there is no other way to deal with these pests,” Peck said, pausing by Ray who gave him a funny look. “You’re all just too lazy to actually think of better options.”

Egon grit his teeth. _“Lazy?”_ he snapped.

Peck locked eyes with Egon, marching up to him. “Lazy,” he repeated. Peck circled around Egon. “If you can’t keep damage to a minimum for the next week, I’ll have no choice but to have you all fined and possibly even arrested. I’m sure the city can find better men for the job in your place.”

Egon clenched his hands into shaking fists. He froze, feeling the barest hint of warm breath pass across his neck, but when he whipped around to look, Peck was already strutting past. “That’s not only ill-advised, it’s completely unlikely you’d find anyone willing to do what we do and not get killed before they even catch a simple Class 1,” he said, frowning. “Not without us training them first.”

Peck stopped at his desk, staring him down. “Then I guess you’d better shape up, then, hadn’t you?”

Before Egon could let the anger bubble up and overtake his more logical mind, Peter stepped in front of him.

“What makes you think the mayor wouldn’t make _you_ replace us if you sent us away, huh?” Peter asked with a sneer. “He seems to think you know enough to be in charge here. Bet he’d change his tune real quick once he sees you in action.”

“I’m sure I’d manage just fine,” Peck smirked. “Now get out of my office. I’ve got more forms to fill out in order to deal with your mistakes.”

“Have a nice day, and up yours,” Peter retorted with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

As they headed down the hall away from the office, Egon felt himself relaxing a bit, his shoulders less tense. He looked over at Peter. “Why did you do that?”

For a moment Peter looked confused. But then he caught on. “Well, as the Official Unofficial Leader of the Ghostbusters, I should be the one dealing with Prick,” he explained. “Especially if it’s to keep that big beautiful brain of yours from combusting or something.”

Whether it was genuine or just Peter being Peter, Egon always liked the compliments he payed him. It was nice to feel appreciated, useful, and it was nice just because it was coming from Peter… He quickly shut down that line of thought. It wouldn’t get him anywhere good.

“Besides,” Peter added with a half-grin, “fighting in a suit is  _not_ fun, trust me.”

Egon tried to stifle a laugh, but instead a small snort escaped through his nose. “I’ll take your word for it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those reading and those leaving kudos! I appreciate it. :) I hope you all enjoy this next chapter.

“We got one!” Janine’s voice burst up through the hole in the floor, causing Ray to jump and nearly choke on his cigarette.

Peter groaned, throwing down the cards he’d been playing with Winston at the dining table. “Duty calls, unfortunately.”

Winston dropped his own cards, a winning hand. “You owe me twenty bucks, just so you know,” he said with a grin.

“Our game was interrupted, I don’t think it counts,” Peter replied blithely. He grabbed the pole and slid down easily.

“Uh-uh, it counts, Venkman,” Winston insisted, following him down.

“Where to, Janine?” Ray asked as they passed her desk.

“The MetLife Building,” Janine replied. “People are reporting strange growling and objects moving on their own.”

Ray nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Fine, fine, you win,” Peter relented, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet, and a twenty, and pushed it into Winston’s hands. “Buy yourself somethin’ pretty.”

Winston rolled his eyes but took the money.

“I’m surprised you didn’t cheat this time,” Egon remarked, meeting them by the Ecto, already suited up.

Peter shrugged. “We didn’t get a chance to finish. I might’ve in a few minutes.”

“Hey!”

Ray snorted, zipping up his own suit. “Is it really a surprise?” he asked Winston.

Winston thought about it for a moment. “Nah, guess not.”

A man who appeared to be in his mid-forties greeted the Ghostbusters outside the MetLife Building. “Ah, so glad you came,” he greeted, shaking hands with Peter. “I’m a representative of the company, Ted Blake.”

“Alright, Mr. Blake, what exactly is the problem here?” Peter asked, gesturing at the ugly skyscraper.

“We were told something about growling and objects moving on their own,” Ray added.

Mr. Blake nodded. “Yes, in the Vanderbilt Lobby,” he said, grimacing beneath his mustache. “There’s some _thing_ in there destroying the place and scaring off employees and other tenants.”

“We’ll take care of it,” Egon assured him, already getting out his PKE Meter. “Have the affected areas been blocked off? Are there civilians inside?”

“Yes and no,” Mr. Blake replied. “We made sure to evacuate the east wings of the North and South buildings.”

“Great, then let’s get this over with,” Peter said, strutting inside. He whistled, looking up at the giant glass and gilded wire sculpture that presided over the entrance. “Maybe letting the ghost destroy the place would be an improvement.”

“That’s an understatement,” Winston agreed with shake of his head.

Ray approached a sculpture of a head by the doors with his PKE Meter. “This thing’s clean,” he announced.

They headed further in to the 45th Street Lobby. It was huge, decorated with giant golden half-circles with little dangly bits hanging from the ceiling and perched on top of tall columns. The center of the room was split up by floor planters. Peter didn’t know much about architecture or design, but the place was gaudy.

Winston snorted. “It’s kinda like the Egyptian exhibit in the Museum of Natural History. But bad.”

“I’m getting a reading,” Egon announced. His eyes widened. “These hits are on level with a Class 7 Fully Corporeal Possessor.”

_“Class 7?_ ” Winston exclaimed, freezing in place.

“Yes. In fact, it seems similar to the readings I got off of Vinz Clortho,” Egon replied, frowning. He moved the PKE around, trying to figure out where the readings lead.

“Great,” Peter groaned. He shook his head. “Ya know, I was just thinking we haven’t feared for our lives in half a year, it was starting to get a little boring.”

“It looks like it’s coming from somewhere upstairs,” Ray said, pointing the PKE Meter up to the second level of the lobby.

They hurried along the lobby, minding the broken glass and tipped over vending machines, and up the center staircase. The warm glow from the lights along the edges of the room flickered out, plunging them into darkness. 

“I don’t like that one bit,” Winston muttered as they lowered their goggles.

Peter grunted in agreement, eyes on his own PKE Meter. It was fluctuating wildly, so there was no way to pinpoint where the energy was coming from. That wasn’t good.

“Well, there’s two hallways. We could split up, two of us take the right, two the left,” Ray suggested, looking back and forth between the two hallways.

“Sure, why not?” Peter huffed. “Alright, Egon, you’re with me. We’ll take the right.”

Winston and Ray nodded and headed down the left hall, and Peter and Egon went down the right. Their footsteps echoed, the only other sound being their breathing and the blips from the PKEs. 

“Any ideas about what this Class 7 might be?” Peter asked, watching Egon out of the corner of his eyes.

“Not a clue,” Egon replied. “I’m just hoping it’s not another Terror Dog.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. I don’t have a doggy bone on me, so it’d be really bad timing.”

“I don’t think a bone would be enough to deter—” Egon cried out, crashing to the floor as he legs went out from under him. Before he could react, he was yanked down the hallway by an invisible force and disappeared into the dark.

“Egon!” Peter shouted, racing after him. He pressed the button of his walkie-talkie. “Ray! Winston! Egon’s been taken!”

_“Taken? Where?”_ Ray asked.

“How the hell should I know? I’m  goin’ after him !” Peter snapped. He turned a corner and sprinted down the next hall. “Egon!”

A loud crash and a snarl lead Peter to a door. He yanked on it, pushed at it, but it didn’t budge. “Fuck!” Peter slammed his shoulder into the door, but it didn’t do anything. Stepping back to the other side of the hall, he took out his thrower and blasted the door. It burst apart and Peter stormed in.

Egon was sprawled on his back, pinned down by a large gray creature with long black  spiky quills trailing down it’s hunched back, its thin tail lashing back and forth. The thing ignored Peter completely as it grabbed Egon’s face and hair, claws digging into his jaw as it pried it open. It spewed orange slime into Egon’s mouth.

Peter shot at it with his proton stream. The demon whipped its head around with a roar, exposing three rows of razor sharp fangs, its four yellow eyes narrowed in rage. It swiped its clawed hand at Peter, flinging him across the room with its telekinetic powers. Peter smacked into the wall, his breath leaving him for a moment.

Ray and Winston appeared in the doorway. Without hesitation they blasted the demon. It yowled, backing off of Egon. Peter clambered to his feet and joined Ray and Winston. 

“You will pay!” The demon howled. It turned and crashed through a window  and into the night .

Ray chased after it, leaning out the shattered window. “It’s gone!”

But Peter wasn’t listening. He ran over to Egon and dropped to his knees beside him. “Egon?”

Egon took a shuddering breath, rolled over, and coughed up some of the orange slime. Peter rubbed his back, watching him with concern as he shook and wheezed.

“What the hell happened?” Winston asked, crouching on Egon’s other side.

“That fucking  _thing_ threw up orange slime into his mouth  like some kinda demented bird ,” Peter said. He helped Egon to his feet. “Egon? Are you okay?” It was a stupid question, obviously he wasn’t, but he needed to know just how bad Egon was doing.

Egon groaned, leaning into Peter, seemingly unable to keep himself upright. Peter wrapped his arm around Egon’s waist, supporting him, and glanced at the small puddle of orange slime on the ground. That was nowhere near the amount he’d ingested, but they’d worry about that when they got back to the Firehouse.

They helped Egon back outside and to the Ecto. Peter got the pack off Egon’s back before coaxing him into the back seat, while Winston and Ray took the front. 

“Wait, what about the ghost?” Mr. Blake shouted after them.

Ray rolled down the window. “It’s  no longer in the building !” he called back as Winston pulled out into the road.

“I… don’t… feel good,” Egon panted, pressing a hand to his stomach.

“I’d be surprised if you did,” Peter muttered as he draped his arm around Egon’s shoulders. “Just breathe, okay? We’ll be at the Firehouse in no time, and we’ll getcha cleaned up and sorted out.”

Egon gave a low, nauseated hum, practically curling into Peter’s side. Luckily, he was able to calm his breathing and only winced when they bumped over potholes. The Ecto sped through the rain slick streets and arrived back at the Firehouse in surprising time. Peter helped Egon out, and while he was glad to see Egon seemed capable of walking on his own, he didn’t leave his side. Better to be safe than sorry.

“Welcome back, guys—Egon!?” Janine gasped, jumping up from her desk.

“What happened?” Louis asked with wide eyes as he left his own desk.

The huge front door swung open  again  before anyone could respond and Peck waltzed in, looking like he owned the place. 

“Nope, we’re  _not_ dealing with this right now,” Peter snapped, leading Egon towards the stairs. He glanced back over his shoulder at Winston and Ray. “You guys handle it.”

“No problem,” Ray agreed, shooting at glare at Peck.

Peter could hear a shouting match starting up as he walked Egon upstairs and to the bathroom. Egon reluctantly allowed Peter to brace him against one of the sinks so he could grab a First Aid Kit. Peter set the kit on the windowsill and gently cupped Egon’s face. The demon had left behind some puncture wounds and light scratches against Egon’s jaw.

“Well, they don’t look too deep. Definitely don’t need stitches,” Peter said. He pulled out a cotton ball and disinfectant. “This is gonna sting like a bitch, but we don’t have much choice.”

“It’s fine,” Egon mumbled. His gaze was a little unfocused, which was worrying.

Peter cleaned him up, and  other than a few hisses of pain, Egon didn’t react much. As he placed some band aids over the marks, he noticed Egon’s breathing had picked up again. “Spengs, you okay? Are you hurt anywhere else?” Peter asked, resting a hand on Egon’s shoulder.

Egon shuddered, leaning forward into Peter’s space. “I feel hot,” he complained.

Well crap. Peter wasn’t sure if that was due to an infection, or because of the slime. Either way it was bad. “Hot where?”

“Everywhere,” Egon whined, grasping the zipper of his jumpsuit and yanking it down. “Too hot…”

“Whoa there, calm down,” Peter said, trying to stop Egon from struggling out of the suit. “You’re gonna hurt yourself or something.” He steadied Egon so he could carefully extract himself from the jumpsuit.

Egon kicked it away, standing in his undershirt and partially unbuttoned long johns, panting. His glassy brown eyes landed on Peter. “Peter… I… I need help.” Egon sounded lost and confused.

“Yeah, I know,” Peter replied, resting his hand on Egon’s back. He  _was_ hot. Peter could feel an unnatural warmth seeping into his palm. “Let’s get you to bed. Maybe some rest will help, huh?”

Egon practically melded himself to Peter’s side. “Yes…” he moaned into Peter’s shoulder.

“Uhh…” Peter couldn’t find an intelligent response or witty remark as a sweet scent invaded his senses. Egon had always smelled a little sweet, mostly due to the ridiculous amount of candy he ate, but it was usually muted under the scent of old books and various chemicals, which would put most people off, but not Peter. This was different. He wanted to bury his face in Egon’s neck or hair and breathe him in.  _Focus_ , Peter chided himself, ushering Egon out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

They must have gone a little too fast because Egon ended up toppling backwards onto his bed instead of sitting down gently, like Peter had intended. Whatever focus Peter had prior had now flown out the window at the sight before him; Egon laid out on his back, breathing hard, sweat dripping off his brow, glasses askew, brown eyes nearly eclipsed by blown pupils. 

“Fuck,” Peter muttered.

Egon licked his lips, squirming. “Peter,” he moaned.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Peter repeated, more emphatically. He knew arousal when he saw it, and even without the visible bulge, Egon was very clearly turned on. Peter knew he should turn and leave, not because he didn’t want Egon—that was very much  _not_ the issue—but because Egon was also very clearly not in his right mind. 

But how could Peter resist? He’d entertained some very fun fantasies about his friend for, well, most of the time they’d known each other. Peter hadn’t done anything about it for a couple of reasons — legality being one, at least until some years ago. Not that it had really stopped him from experimenting, but Egon deserved to be more than that. There was also the fact Peter hadn’t been sure if Egon had a sexual bone in his body, or a romantic one at that. Though, if Egon had really slept with the mood slime… Well, it didn’t mean he had feelings towards Peter. And even if he did, Peter didn’t want to screw up his friendship with Egon with his own issues. 

“Peter, please…” Egon’s voice broke through Peter’s rambling thoughts. He reached out, grabb ed Peter by the belt of his jumpsuit, and tugged him down on top of himself. Egon gave a pleased sigh,

“Egon, we can’t,” Peter protested, even though his own body was reacting now. “You’re not okay.”

Egon arched up against him.  _“Please.”_

Peter’s resolve snapped. His fingers sunk into Egon’s soft brunette hair and used his grip to tilt Egon’s face the way he wanted it. Peter kissed him hungrily, enjoying the happy moan vibrating against his lips. Egon’s lips parted, allowing Peter to taste him as he pleased. 

One thought broke through the warm haze in Peter’s mind. He broke the kiss and stood up, ignoring the noise of disappointment Egon let out, and hurried to the bedroom door. Peter couldn’t let anyone come in. Egon was his. Peter locked the door and, for good measure, shoved the chair from the nearby desk under the handle. Satisfied that there would be no interruptions, Peter returned to Egon, shucking off his jumpsuit and the long johns beneath so he was only in his undershirt and boxers.

“I’m sorry, baby, you miss me?” Peter smirked, settling back on top of him.

“Yes,” Egon muttered before leaning up to kiss him. His slender fingers curled into Peter’s shirt, trying to tug it up and off.

Peter sat back and yanked the shirt off, tossing it towards his own bed, and then he was back to kissing Egon. It was hard not to lose himself in the  frantic press and slide of lips. He slipped a hand under Egon’s shirt, skimming across his flat stomach and up to his chest, brushing the pad of his thumb over a nipple. Egon moaned softly and pressed up into it.

“Peter,” Egon whined, pawing at him.

There was no way Peter could waste any more time. Peter ripped Egon’s shirt up and off before tugging off the long johns and briefs beneath. Egon’s writhing made it a little challenging to get his own boxers off, but Peter managed. 

“Roll over,” Peter said. He grinned as Egon immediately did so, his hips hitching up instinctively to offer himself  to Peter . Peter leaned over his pale back and kissed his neck, grinding against his ass. “Good boy.”

Egon’s moan was muffled by his pillow. 

Peter was glad his nightstand was between his and Egon’s bed. It meant he was able to reach over and grab the lube he kept inside. Peter might never have been a Boy Scout, but the “always be prepared” motto was good for anyone. He squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers. Despite the fog of lust clouding his mind, Peter never wanted to hurt Egon. 

“Alright, sweetheart, I’m gonna give you what you need,” Peter purred into Egon’s ear, rubbing a finger over his twitching rim. 

“ _Yes,_ please, Peter,” Egon panted, gripping his sheets. He didn’t even seem to be aware of the way his glasses were shoved into his face and fogging up.

Peter pressed his finger in, groaning at how hot and tight Egon was. And wet already. “Damn.” How had that happened? It didn’t matter much, but it was hot as fuck. Peter thrust his finger in and out a few times before introducing the second. He dropped open mouthed kisses along Egon’s curving spine, spreading him open with his fingers.

“More,” Egon insisted, pushing back against him.

As if Peter would deny him. Peter happily obliged, working a third finger into Egon’s body. “ _Fuck._ Didn’t even need much lube, you’re practically dripping wet for me already, aren’t you?” he rumbled against Egon’s back. Peter grinned at Egon’s answering moan, pumping his fingers steadily and scissoring them. “Ready?”

“Yes!” 

Egon whimpered at the sudden loss of the fingers, but it turned into a deep moan as Peter dragged the tip of his dick against his rim. Peter held him open with one hand and guided himself inside with the other. He grabbed Egon’s hips, their moans mingling as he sunk into him. 

Peter lost any control he still had after that. Gripping his hips hard, Peter pulled back out before thrusting quickly back in. The slick sound of skin smacking against skin, grunts, and moans filled the air. Peter needed to get deeper. He stretched out over Egon, grinding into his ass instead of thrusting properly.

“Peter!” Egon cried out, back arching as he came.

He hadn’t even touched him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Peter chanted, slamming into Egon t hree, four more  times before cumming hard. When the ringing in his ears faded, he collapsed on top of Egon with a groan. With the last bit of consciousness, Peter managed to roll them onto their sides, pulling Egon back into his chest. He sighed, and with Egon wrapped in his arms, Peter fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Egon gave a quiet groan of discomfort as he woke. His body ached and his jaw stung. The only pleasant thing rousing his senses was the faint smell of cinnamon, sandalwood, and leather on his pillow. Peter’s cologne. Egon’s eyes snapped open. He rolled onto his back and sat up. However, he immediately regretted it and he flopped back down.

 _What in the world happened?_ he wondered. Slowly, bits and pieces of the night before returned to him. Egon felt his cheeks heat. He and Peter had… Well, that explained the pain in his lower half. Egon slowly sat up and grabbed his glasses off the nightstand—had Peter done that for him?—and looked around. He was alone in the room. Which might have been for the best, since he was naked beneath the covers.

As Egon got up and got dressed, more of his memory returned. But not enough. And where had Peter gone? Perhaps to get something to eat. Surely he wouldn’t have sex with him and just leave? Egon grimaced. Then again, Peter was known for doing exactly that.

He limped into the bathroom and gripped the edges of a sink and leaned forward, head bent. Egon shouldn’t have been surprised by it. Honestly, the only surprising thing should’ve been that he and Peter had had sex. Egon had only ever seen Peter with women, so to even think Peter was interested in men let alone _him_ was absurd. No. The likely explanation was that whatever that slime had done to him to make him aroused, Egon had probably forced himself on Peter. 

He felt sick. Egon swallowed and stood up properly. As soon as he saw Peter again he would apologize. He couldn’t just leave the Ghostbusters, could he? They already had all the equipment they needed to bust ghosts, truly Egon didn’t need to be there anymore. Or perhaps he’d relocate, and Ray or Winston could still get whatever repairs or updates on the equipment they needed, and Peter would never have to see him again.

Course of action decided, Egon relieved himself and hurried into the shower. Normally he was quick and efficient about his showers, never lingering, however he knew this time he needed to be thorough. He needed to erase the memory of his and Peter’s coupling in the only way he knew how. If he couldn’t rid his brain of it, he could at least rid his body of it.

Egon scrubbed at his  skin hard, trying not to think about the finger shaped bruises on his hips. He reached behind himself and opened himself to the water, allowing it to wash whatever remained away. A flash of orange caught his attention. Egon stooped, trying to catch the orange slime before it slipped down the drain, but it was too late. Even more frustrated with himself, Egon finished his shower, dried off, and left the bathroom.

And was immediately bombarded by Ray and Winston upon leaving the bedroom.

“Wha—”

“Egon! Are you okay?” Ray asked, looking him over worriedly.

“We didn’t wanna wake you,” Winston added. “But _are_ you?”

Egon nodded habitually. “I’m fine.” His stomach was tied up in knots. Egon forced himself to look back at Ray and Winston. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

The two exchanged a look.

Ray cleared his throat, avoiding Egon’s eyes. “We, uh, heard some _things_ last night,” he said.

Egon’s face was burning. “I see.”

“No judgment here, man,” Winston assured him with a small smile. It didn’t stay. “But, Peter just kinda ran outta the place this morning. No explanation, nothing.”

“You don’t have to tell us anything, of course,” Ray said, gently patting Egon’s bicep. “Unless you need to, in which case we’re here for ya.”

“… That’s much appreciated. But I’m fine. Excuse me.” Egon needed to lose himself in his work, preferably forever. Or until Peter came back. Whichever happened first.

“Egon!” Janine’s voice drifted up through the hole in the floor. “You’ve got a call!”

Egon winced. He really didn’t want to talk to anyone. Still, he made his way downstairs. “From who?” he asked, approaching Janine’s desk.

“Walter Peck,” Janine said with a shrug, handing the phone over.

Didn’t that just go with the rest of the morning. Egon took the phone. “Hello?”

“I need to speak with you in my office,” Peck said, straight to the point.

“Why me?” Egon asked.

“I’ll explain when you get here.”

Before Egon could say anything else, Peck hung up. Sighing, he handed Janine the phone back. Janine, and Louis behind her, were both looking at him curiously.

“I have no clue what he wants,” Egon said, heading for the doors. “I suppose I have no choice but to find out.”

Egon paid the taxi and headed into the building that housed the PCOC offices. It was deserted, though he recalled having only seen one other person the last time he was there. That, and it was also a Sunday, so perhaps whoever else worked there had the day off. Egon wouldn’t be surprised if Peck never took a day off himself. Still, he wasn’t happy about being called in, even if it might take his mind off his personal problems.

The elevator dropped him off on the fourth floor and Egon made his way down the pristine white hallway to the door of Peck’s office. He knocked.

“Come in,” Peck called from inside.

Egon opened the door and stepped into the office.

“Close the door behind you,” Peck added, not looking up from his papers.

“Why did you call me here?” Egon asked as he did so. When he turned back to Peck, the man was staring at him. 

Peck rapped his fingers against his desk before standing up. “Let me be straight with you,” he said, approaching him. “You’ve always been the intelligent one of your group.”

Egon blinked. “Thank you…” he replied warily.

“As smart as you are, surely you can come up with a way to make your inventions… less likely to cause damage,” Peck continued.

Egon’s first instinct was to protest, the whole point  _was_ to cause damage. To ghosts. But he stopped himself. The proton streams did tend to be a bit unwieldy. If he found a way to make them more streamlined and direct, theoretically there would be less chance of damage to the surrounding area. “Yes, I suppose I c—What are you doing?”

Peck had at some point moved behind him and now had his hands on Egon’s hips. He pressed up against Egon’s back. “I knew I could get through to you. You’re a good little pet, aren’t you?” he purred into his ear.

Egon squirmed, pushing at Peck’s hands. “Please let go of my person.”

He didn’t. Peck’s grip tightened, and his nose brushed against Egon’s neck. A low growl rose from Peck’s throat. “What!? No. You’ve already been bred!”

“Excuse me!?” Egon yelped as he was shoved forward and bent over Peck’s desk. “Stop!”

“No matter. You’re still fertile. Once I breed you, my seed will replace his,” Peck said, reaching over Egon’s head to grab something.

A flash of metal. Peck used the letter opener to slice open the back of Egon’s gray slacks. Fear shot through Egon, halting all but the most basic instincts. He threw himself back, slamming his head into Peck’s face. Peck shouted, his grip loosening enough for Egon to wriggle out from under him.

Egon got the to door, threw it open, and ran from the room. The pounding of his heart nearly drowned out the clack of his shoes against the tiles as he sprinted down the hall. He had to get out. He didn’t have any way of properly defending himself. Egon wasn’t  much of  a fighter. While he knew of weak points on the human body, that didn’t mean a thing if he wasn’t fast or strong enough to exploit them.

Egon repeatedly hit the button to the elevator. He glanced back to see Peck walking towards him, in no hurry at all. His glare could be felt even from a distance. The elevator dinged and Egon stumbled inside, quickly smacking the button for the first floor. Just as Peck got there, the doors slid closed.

What the hell had Peck been saying up there? What had he meant by Egon being “bred”? Obviously Egon knew what it  _meant_ , but it made no sense. The way he’d been talking and behaving was strange. He’d say out of character, except he didn’t know Peck well enough to know if that was the truth.

The elevator jolted to a stop. Egon’s head snapped up. He was on the second floor, not the first. The doors slid open, revealing Peck on the other side. He was trapped. Egon’s stomach dropped as he pressed back against the wall of the elevator. “Don’t do this,” he said. “There are cameras in here. You’ll be caught.”

Peck’s grin was nothing short of feral. “Cameras mean nothing to me,” he growled, stalking into the elevator, his eyes flashing yellow. Peck grabbed Egon by the shoulder and forced him around so his chest was against the wall. Egon struggled, but it was no use as Peck pinned his wrists above his head with only one hand.

“Stop!” Egon shouted.

He was ignored. Peck stretched along his back, and Egon could feel his erection against his clothed ass. Egon’s legs were locked in place by Peck’s, rendering him immobile through inhuman strength. A belt buckle clinked, a zipper was pulled down, followed by the rustling of clothes. Egon gasped as fingers grabbed the back of his briefs and ripped.

“What the hell!?”

“Get off him!”

Peck was yanked off and Egon spun around. Winston hauled Peck from the elevator, and Peter punched him square in the face. Peck snarled, stumbling backwards and clutching at his face. Egon nearly fell out of the elevator in his rush to escape it. There was more shouting, and he saw Peck run off.

Hands landed on Egon’s shoulders and he cried out, flinching away.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, it’s just me,” Ray soothed, pulling back.

Egon tried to even his breaths, but it was a struggle. “I… I’m sorry,” he stammered.

“What for? You didn’t do anything,” Winston said gently.

“I shouldn’t have touched you after…” Ray hesitated. “Egon, did he…?”

Egon shook his head, leaning against the nearby wall. He was exhausted, emotionally more than anything. “No… He—He tried. But no.” Egon couldn’t stop shaking, and he avoided looking at any of them. Especially Peter. Peter had to hate him, think him disgusting, probably assumed Egon threw himself at Peck like he’d done to Peter.

A brown leather jacket entered Egon’s field of view. “Here. You can wrap it around you waist,” Ray said with a small, awkward smile.

“… Thank you,” Egon replied, hand trembling as he took the jacket. He tied it around his waist, hiding the rips in his pants. 

As soon as they were back at the Firehouse, Egon dropped Ray’s jacket on the pool table and went straight for the R&D room. He pulled on his lab coat, grateful for how much of him it covered. It was comforting. 

Egon couldn’t let himself think about what almost happened, instead he tried to focus on the fact that Peck was definitely not himself. He was likely possessed, and his first guess was that it was the entity that had slimed him the night before. Egon found Tobin’s Spirit Guide and carefully flipped through it, until a page caught his eye. It was a picture of the creature that had attacked him, along with a second, similar creature. The entry was labeled ‘Oxxic and Vazimir’.

_Oxxic and Vazimir a_ _re a pair of_ _“Lesser Demons”—identified by their yellow eyes—that are particularly peculiar and believed to be related to Succubi and Incubi. Not much is known about them_ _beyond that_ _, as they have appeared on Earth infrequently, and their last known appearance was in May of 1910 in Budapest, Hungary._

_Oxxic and Vazimir work as a team to find and use their victims. Oxxic will find a human and secrete an orange substance into their bodies, causing the human to experience a sort of sexual hysteria. This is when Vazimir will attack and forcibly impregnate the victim._

_Why they do this, and what they do with the offspring, is unknown. To date,_ _I_ _have come across the reports of only two surviving victims. A woman from 1674 Devonshire, England who said she was taken by demons and gave birth to a devil child, wh_ _ich_ _was_ _then_ _taken from her. While there is records of her survival, not much else is known._

_The second victim is a most_ _strange_ _case indeed. A man was found in the Black Forest in Germany, in 1855. His stomach had been torn open, and he survived long enough to tell the ones who found him about his encounter with Oxxic and Vazimir. It can be assumed from his recollection that the orange secretion formed a make-shift womb of sorts, allowing him to carry a child for_ _an unknown length of time_ _before giving birth._

_I am troubled by our lack of knowledge on what these creatures do with their offspring, and by the nature of their attacks._

Egon slammed the book shut, trembling. He squeezed his eyes shut. There was no way he was pregnant. It just wasn’t possible.  _We deal with the impossible everyday_ , his mind unhelpfully reminded him. 

Pacing, Egon tried to calm his racing thoughts. He would have to be sure if he was or wasn’t pregnant. If he was… Egon sat down at his desk. If he was, then he could abort it.  There were pills for that sort of thing, if he was remembering correctly. 

But first, Egon needed to know the truth.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those leaving kudos! I'd also like to say, in case people are wondering, I do love comments, too. So if anyone has something they'd like to say, please do! :) I hope people like this next chapter.

Vazimir finished the circle of blood on the floor in the lair they had claimed and stood back.

“What do you think will happen?” Oxxic asked, pacing behind him.

“We shall find out,” Vazimir muttered. He started up a low chant, walking around the circle. The blood glowed and the mirror in the center rippled.

Vigo’s face appeared in the mirror. “Why have you called me?” he demanded.

Vazimir lowered his head. “There has been a complication with the plan,” he explained. “Oxxic prepared one of the Ghostbusters, Egon Spengler. However, before I could breed him, another of the Ghostbusters did.”

“What!?” Vigo bellowed. His face twisted into a furious snarl.

Oxxic cowered. “We cannot get close without risking banishment or death.”

Vigo was quiet for a few moments. “The plan has changed,” he announced.

“In what ways?” Vazimir asked.

“You will wait for the baby to be born. As soon as it is, you will take it, and bring it and this Egon Spengler here to me,” Vigo commanded. “I will possess the baby as I had originally intended.”

Vazimir and Oxxic bowed.

* * *

To say that Peter felt like shit would’ve been an understatement. Not only had he raped Egon, but Peck had tried to as well. Or at least, whatever was possessing Peck had. He’d seen the flash of yellow eyes, and that definitely wasn’t normal. Peter knew he should face Egon and apologize, and then avoid him forever. Avoiding him had become easier since Egon had stopped going on busts lately. He didn’t know what to say. “Sorry for raping you” didn’t seem like the best option.

Peter had seen Egon and Ray leave earlier that morning. How Egon could stand to go anywhere, even after a little over a week from the attack, was a mystery, but luckily they were back fairly fast. Peter didn’t want to let Egon out of his sight, except he couldn’t go near him either.

But he needed to. He was a psychologist for fucks sake, he could do it.

Steeling himself, Peter knocked on the door to the R&D room. The startled scrape of chair legs on wood made him wince, but he waited for the door to open.

“Peter?” Egon asked, eyes wide.

“Uh, yeah. Can we talk?” Peter replied.

Egon hesitated, then nodded. He opened the door properly and stood back, allowing Peter inside. He was stiffer than usual as he moved to stand in front of his desk, nervous or uncomfortable in Peter’s presence.

Peter couldn’t blame him. Still, he had to say something. “Look, Egon, sorry really doesn’t begin to cover how I feel about what I did,” Peter said finally. He rubbed the back of his neck, rolled his shoulders. “Fuck, it was beyond shitty. I should’ve done… better. I _am_ sorry, though.”

“ _You’re_ sorry?” Egon’s brows furrowed, perplexed. “For what?”

“For what? For, ya know…” Peter gestured vaguely at him, then down in the direction of the bedroom. “I took advantage of you when you weren’t in your right mind.”

Egon’s brows rose. “That’s absurd,” he said, shaking his head. “I was the one who was in the wrong. I should have been able to control myself.”

Peter stared at him for a moment. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m always serious.”

“I can’t…” Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. “How can it be _your_ fault if _you_ were under the influence of some sort of horny slime, huh?”

Egon opened and closed his mouth. He was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking things over. “I see your point,” he conceded. Egon looked away. “But I do not consider what you did assault.”

“Huh? How?” Peter asked, even more baffled.

“I have reason to believe the slime affected the chemicals and hormones within my body, secreting pheromones to entice copulation with any viable male within the vicinity,” Egon explained.

Peter blinked. “How about you repeat that in English this time?”

Egon sighed. “Pheromones are a way animals—including humans to an extent—attract one another. I believe the slime caused my body to react in such a way to increase the production of such pheromones in order to… arouse you.”

“Uh-huh,” Peter said, nodding slowly. That made some sense. Egon _had_ smelled unusually good.

“Beyond that…” Egon’s cheeks reddened. “I enjoyed the act.” He coughed awkwardly, crossing his arms. “So there’s no need for you to worry about assaulting me.”

He… enjoyed it. Part of Peter wanted to say something witty like he usually would, but mostly he felt like he needed to sit because he was so damn relieved.

Egon turned away from him. “I’m sorry. I know hearing that likely disgusts you. I don’t expect you to feel the same, so if you’d like we can forget any of this ever happened.”

Peter took a few quick steps over to him. “Whoa, hey now, disgusted?” he asked, incredulous. Peter leaned against the desk, tipping his head so he could catch Egon’s eyes. “I’m not disgusted. Honestly, I’m flattered. More than that, actually.”

“What are you saying?” Egon asked, facing him. His deep brown eyes were narrowed in confusion.

Instead of answering verbally, Peter cupped Egon’s uninjured cheek and guided him into a kiss. For a moment, Egon leaned into it, but then he was pulling away.

“Wait,” Egon gasped. He licked his lips and turned, picking up Tobin’s Spirit Guide. “There’s… there’s something you should know. You still might change your mind about me.”

Peter frowned. “I doubt that, but what?”

Egon opened the book to a page and showed it to him. “These entities, Oxxic and Vazimir are behind the attacks. I believe it’s Vazimir who’s possessing Peck. According to this entry, they will find a victim and impregnate them. What they do with the child once it’s born is unknown, but they can even impregnate men,” he explained. At Peter’s blank look, Egon sighed and picked up something else. A pregnancy test. “I’m pregnant.”

“… I’m sorry, you’re… _pregnant_?” Peter asked. His eyes were glued to the stick which showed positive. He tore his gaze away to look at Egon. “And, uh, I’m… I’m the dad?”

“Seeing as you’re the only one I’ve had intercourse with, yes,” Egon replied dryly. He set the stick aside. “You don’t have to worry about it, however. As soon as I’ve done the necessary research, I will abort it.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Wait, you’re gonna perform an abortion on _yourself?”_ He shook his head, grabbing Egon’s arms. “No, no, no. Not gonna happen. Are you kidding me? That’s way too dangerous.”

“It won’t be when I know what I’m doing,” Egon said.

“This isn’t a discussion,” Peter snapped. “If I didn’t let you drill a damn hole in your head, I’m not gonna let you slice yourself open.”

Egon gave an annoyed huff. “First, it wouldn’t require slicing myself open. I know that much. Second, if I went to a professional to do it, they would likely refuse and send me to a mental hospital. This is the only way.”

Peter was struggling to process the whole thing. Not only was he Egon’s first—guessing it and it being admitted to were totally different things—he had gotten him pregnant. He rubbed his face, trying to get his brain to form a complete thought. “So, what, you don’t want the kid?”

“I… Do you?” Egon asked, brows raised.

That was certainly a question. “I don’t know…  _maybe?”_ Had his voice cracked? What was he, a teenager? Peter had thought about it before, in the abstract sense. When he’d briefly reconnected with Dana and had met Oscar, the thoughts couldn’t  _not_ come up. He liked kids. Peter had figured one day he’d probably settle down and have one or two, but it had been a vague plan for the future. Then again, he was 42 now. And as fucking insane as it was that Egon was  _pregnant_ , Peter was kind of curious about what their kid would be like. “Yeah.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah. I do want the kid,” Peter said with a half-grin. He shrugged. “But it’s not really my decision, though. You’re the one carrying it, do  _you_ want to have a baby?”

Egon faltered. “I—I hadn’t let myself think about that,” he murmured.

“Hey, that’s fine,” Peter soothed, moving into Egon’s space. He rested his hands on Egon’s waist, rubbing gentle circles into his hips with his thumbs. “You don’t have to decide right this second, yeah? If you don’t want the baby, we’ll  go through with the abortion . And if you do? Then great. We’ll figure it out as we go. Either way, you’re mine now, so don’t get all caught up in that big brain of yours, got it?”

Finally a small smile curled Egon’s lips. “Do you mean that?”

“Yep.” Peter kissed him again, and this time Egon responded eagerly. Kissing was always fun, but for the first time, Peter felt like he could get addicted to it. And when Egon wrapped his long arms around his shoulders? Perfect. Peter deepened the kiss, nipping at Egon’s bottom lip, earning a cute little whimper. He broke the kiss, only to move down to Egon’s neck instead.

“Ohh…” Egon sighed, his whole body shivering. “That feels very good, Peter…”

Peter smirked against his throat, not letting up. He squeezed Egon’s hip, sliding his other hand around to his back. It was nice being able to kiss Egon when he knew it was wanted this time.

“W-wait…” Egon breathed. “What about the others? What are we going to tell them?”

“About what?” Peter asked, pressing kisses to the other side of his neck.

“About all of this.” Egon pushed at Peter’s shoulders and Peter finally backed off. “Whether or not I keep the baby, there’s a high probability Oxxic and Vazimir will come after me again. Peck—Vazimir—said something about replacing your seed with his. So I don’t think he’s given up on whatever it is they planned.”

Peter frowned and nodded. If he saw Peck again he was going to punch him even harder, possessed or not. “Then I guess we’ve gotta be honest with them,” he replied. He shrugged a shoulder. “I’m not too worried about it. Well, maybe about Janine finding out. She’ll probably give me hell. But I doubt Ray and Winston’ll have a problem. Ray’s the one that helped you get that pregnancy test, right?”

“He doesn’t know what I bought, but yes,” Egon said, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “You’re right. I suppose I’m just… unused to sharing personal information with others. Even those I consider friends.”

“Then let me do all the talking, hm? It’s what I’m best at, after all,” Peter said with a chuckle.

Egon gave a quiet laugh, relaxing a bit. “True.”

Peter kissed his cheek. “You’re cute when you laugh, you know that? You should do it more often.” He slid an arm around his waist, resting his hand at the small of his back, and lead him from the room, grinning at the way Egon blushed.

“Alright everyone, gather ‘round, ‘cause I’m not gonna repeat this to all of you individually!” Peter called out as they passed through the rec area and down to the first floor.

“What’s going on?” Ray asked as he and Winston followed.

“Is everything alright?” Louis piped up, moving to stand beside Janine at her desk.

“It’s complicated,” Egon said.

Winston snorted. “When isn’t it?”

“Okay, this is all gonna sound insane, but just wait until the end for questions, got it?” Peter told them. And then he went on to explain everything. Well, not everything of course, they didn’t need to know the dirty details. When he finished he looked around at them all. “So now you know.”

Louis was the first to break the awkward silence. “Wow. And I thought being possessed by a demon dog was the weirdest thing that could happen,” he said with a short laugh. “Oh, uh, I didn’t mean that in a bad way, of course. Just, well, anyway… Congratulations?”

“It’s alright. It  _is_ an unusual situation,” Egon replied, unbothered. He made a noise of surprise as Ray flung his arms around him and Peter.

“This is happy news, guys! I always wondered when you’d actually get together,” Ray said, grin evident in his voice.

“What are you talking about?” Peter asked.

Ray stepped back, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, it was always a little obvious you had a thing for each other,” he said, still smiling from ear-to-ear. “Peter never gives rewards to anyone else when we do something good. And there’s this little smile Egon gets that only happens around Peter.”

Peter wasn’t sure what to say to that. Yeah, he’d only ever gifted Egon treats, but he didn’t think it was so obvious as to why. And Egon had a smile just for him?

“This is sweet and all, but is nobody else concerned about the demons that are still wandering around New York? That will probably try and attack Egon again? And also probably the rest of us?” Winston asked, standing with his hands on his hips.

“Ah, yeah, good point,” Ray said, his smile turning sheepish.

“Yes, I’d like to know what to expect with that,” Janine agreed. She rested her hip against her desk. “The kinda trouble you guys get into doesn’t affect only you, after all.”

Ray crossed his arms. “Well, they haven’t attacked us here yet, which is good. But Peck—I mean Vazimir—showed up here after Oxxic’s attack. That was the name of the other one, right?”

“That’s correct,” Egon replied.

“Right.” Ray nodded slowly. “So they know where we are…” He snapped his fingers, expression brightening. “I got it!”

“Okay?” Winston prompted, arching an eyebrow.

“My bookstore is filled with books with various rituals and spells and sigils,” Ray explained. “Some of them oughtta have spells or something for protection.”

Peter grimaced. “Is that really our only option?  _Magic_ ?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Egon said. “At the very least, it’s something to try until we can come up with something better. Honestly, I’d been considering making something to protect the Firehouse, a protective barrier of sorts to keep ghosts from getting in on their own. I couldn’t think of a reason why that might happen, hence not working on it before now. However, this might be a good time.”

“Riiight,” Peter drawled. “Is that safe to work on for you?”

Egon tilted his head.

“You’re pregnant. Ya can’t just experiment away like normal, what if you and the baby get hurt?” Peter pointed out. Sure, maybe Egon would end up deciding to abort the baby, but until then he felt uncomfortable with Egon taking any unnecessary risks.

“Not to worry,” Egon said with a small smile. “I have a good idea of what materials I’d need, and none of them would be dangerous to myself or the baby.”

“Okay, well, until then, I’ll go to the store and see what I can find,” Ray told them, already heading for the front doors. “Winston, wanna help?”

“Two heads are better than one,” Winston replied with a shrug, following him.

Janine walked up to Egon. “So, this might be a bit weird, but, I know you’ll be needing a doctor at some point  if you keep the baby , so I think the OBGYN I go to would be good for you. Dr. Sarah McCarthy. She’s very nice, discreet, and she’s a big fan of you guys so I know she’d understand the weirdness you deal with,” she said with a smile. “I can talk to her for ya, if you’d like?”

Egon blinked down at her. “That’s very nice of you to offer,” he replied. “I… I suppose if you think she can be trusted, then it couldn’t hurt to try.”

“Excellent. I’ll give her a call, then.” Janine gave him a hug. “You seem happy. I’m glad.” She stepped back and shot Peter a glare over the top of her glasses. “If you hurt him, I’ll put you in the containment unit myself. We clear?”

Peter held up his hands. “Crystal.”

“Good.”

“Alright-y then. Now that that’s settled… Egon, why don’t we take advantage of this moment to have a little alone time, hmm?” Peter asked with a wink. He grabbed Egon’s hand and dragged him towards the stairs.

Egon blushed just as Peter knew he would. “ _Peter._ ”

“What?”


End file.
